The Ballad of the Schoolmarm
by writer writing
Summary: While the Coles are wintering in San Francisco, the schoolteacher quits when he can no longer handle a rowdy classroom. Sister Ruth, determined for her daughter to socialize and for the local children to get an education, takes on the challenging job. AU. 1846. Seventeenth in a series.
1. Chapter 1

Kid Cole never walked by a school that he didn't feel a pang of regret.

He paused to watch the carefree children running about the schoolyard, screaming with the laughter of youth. It wasn't that they didn't have problems necessarily; some did, but they knew how to throw them off in the pursuit of play. They knew how to live in the moment.

He envied them, not only for that, but when their play was over, they would return to a schoolroom where they would be given the gift of learning. Oh, he'd learned to read and do arithmetic. His mother had seen to it that he learned all the basics, but there had always been too many things to do around the farm for him to actually attend school.

And he couldn't help but think that if he'd had a proper schooling, he might have had the opportunity to be something in his life besides a gunfighter. He could have been a banker or a lawyer, something that would have paid well and had a lot less stress.

And he bet none of the fortunate children even realized they were being given the opportunity to decide their future through their education.

 _November 1846_

The door swung open so suddenly and hard that it was a wonder it didn't fall off its hinges.

"Mercy Fiona Cole, how many times do I have to tell you to enter through the door like a human being instead of a wildcat?" Sometimes Sister Ruth wondered if her children were unacquainted with door etiquette thanks to all the time they spent in a wagon, but she'd seen children who had lived in a house all their life do it too. She wanted to ask why she was at home at midday, but Mercy answered it for her.

"Sorry, Momma. I'm so excited. I don't have to go to school no more."

She grinned. It wasn't because her ten-year-old daughter had conquered her grammar lessons, but she was more to blame for her double negatives than the school, since it was a perfectly acceptable speech pattern in the south and particularly in southern Appalachia. "You don't? Why's that?"

"Mr. Daly quit."

"Good. I won't have to go to school either!" cheered six-year-old Isaiah, who wasn't looking forward to having to go next year.

Ruth wasn't really looking forward to him going either. He was bound to be as stubborn there as he was at home and get in fights with both teacher and students. And the fact that strangers didn't really understand his speech worried her, but she wanted to try it. She wanted the best for her children and schooling was a part of that best. "You will go to school next year. Mr. Daly won't have nothing to do with it. We ain't even going to be in Yerba Buena next year."

"But I don't have to go to school this year!" Mercy exclaimed, happy as a lark at her newfound freedom. "They don't have another teacher."

It wasn't that she couldn't do her studies here, but Mercy as shy as she was rarely got to make friends because of their constant travel. And then there were the local children. Not all the parents had the time or education to see to their children's learning. Not having a winter term would mean they wouldn't get any book learning at all. "Why'd he quit?"

"Cause the kids are so mean! Especially the big ones. They don't like school."

Mr. Daly, young but experienced, had seemed like a tough enough disciplinarian. And how bad could the children be to make him quit only one week into the term?

"Momma, Momma, play with me," demanded 3-year-old Gideon jumping from foot to foot and tugging on her skirt. "Please!"

She smiled down at him, ruffling his light brown hair. "That please is so hard to turn down, but I need to talk to your daddy. Sissy's home early. Why don't you play with Mercy?"

Noticing his big sister for the first time, he went running towards her just as happy with the substitute maybe happier.

Kid was out back, splitting wood for dinner. The wood pile was small as southern California rarely saw snow.

"The schoolmaster quit," she told him. "Couldn't handle the classroom."

"That's a surprise. I could see it if it was a woman teacher."

"I want to do it."

"Do what?" he asked, wiping his brow before swinging again. "Chop the wood?"

"Teach the children."

He stopped chopping and looked up at her in mild astonishment, but he barely missed a beat before he said, "If that's what you want to do, I say go for it."

"That'll leave you home all day with the boys," she fretted. "And the chores."

He smiled. "We ain't got a lot to do, not living on a farm. I'll manage fine here. Go. Tell the school board you want to do it, so they can tell the parents there'll be school tomorrow."

His ax still lodged in the log, she leaned in to show her gratitude in a kiss. "You're the best husband a gal could ask for."

So excited, she almost skipped back into the house, she told Mercy, "You're going to have a teacher after all."

Her dark blue eyes went wide with surprise. "Who?"

"Me."


	2. Chapter 2

"You didn't have to come to school so early, you know," Ruth said to Mercy, who was taking a broom to the floor vigorously while she made pens for the students, whittling the nibs.

"I wanted to," she answered, and when she finished the sweeping, Ruth discovered why as she got down one of the books that belonged to the school, _Don Quixote_ , and quickly became engrossed, causing Ruth to smile at her daughter's enthusiasm for reading.

The school board had said yes to her offer out of desperation, but she could tell they worried about her ability to maintain order when a man hadn't been able to do it. And they didn't like that she was married, but they couldn't fault her character or the fact that she was there and willing to do so without pay.

It was harder to write neatly on a chalkboard pinned to the wall than it looked, but she didn't do too bad getting out 'Mrs. Cole' for a first attempt. She had wanted to have the kids call her Sister Ruth, but the school board knowing her propensity for dispensing with formalities had warned her against it. They were afraid having children call their teacher by their first name would cause them to lose all respect for her. Ruth thought it might help them build positive relationships to use her given name, but she had been willing to concede on that point.

One of the boys burst in, grinning widely. He was cute with his smattering of freckles, missing teeth, and ruffled hair, but he had the definite look of a scamp. Mischief twinkled in his eyes as he sat down at his seat a little too properly for a 8-year-old, arousing her suspicion, but he said not a word after his hello and began using his chalk and slate.

Encouraged to have a student working before school started, she walked over to take a look at the sums or penmanship he must have been working on. He quickly spit on the slate and rubbed it with his sleeves to wipe it clean at her approach. Not soon enough to keep her from seeing a well-drawn but rude caricature of herself with thick eyebrows and a smile that took up half her face. Under it was written Mrs. Mole instead of Cole. She was torn between laughing and scolding. She chose instead to pretend she didn't see it.

The rest of the children had elected to play before school. It was a pretty enough day for it, but then most days in this part of the country were pretty. She rang the bell promptly at 9:00, calling them inside. A good portion of the kids groaned to hear it, showing their clear dislike of school, but they filed in.

Most of the students were Irish, but there were Mexican children too. She wondered if part of the problem in the classroom stemmed from the fact that California had just broken away from Mexico in a revolt to become its own republic before the U.S. had taken over. Stress and prejudices from parents had a way of trickling down and affecting children.

It took ringing the bell quite a few times to get them to quiet down and listen to her. "I'm Mrs. Cole. I heared tell that ya'll ain't been doing too good a job this school term, but you all look like a good group of kids to me, so I'm sure there ain't nothing to worry about."

She had picked out a chapter from the Bible to read before the day got underway. She didn't know the previous teacher's habits, but starting the school day out right by turning their attention to God could only help.

"To know wisdom and instruction; to perceive the words of understanding; To receive the instruction of wisdom, justice, and judgment, and equity; To give subtilty to the simple, to the young man knowledge and discretion. A wise man will hear, and will increase learning; and a man of understanding shall attain unto wise counsels: To understand a proverb, and the interpretation; the words of the wise, and their dark sayings."

She paused her reading to look up. The children were blessedly quiet. She wondered if the scripture was going over their heads, but they could ask questions when she finished if they needed to, so she returned to the passage.

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge: but fools despise wisdom and instruction. My son, hear the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother: For they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head, and chains about thy neck."

sss

Lemuel, Burr, and Walter came in, late as usual, talking and laughing with total disregard for the fact that they were interrupting. They didn't take their hats off either, and they didn't sit down. Mercy looked away from the nearly grown boys back to Ruth. Her mother didn't abide rudeness to others in general, but that was especially true while the Word of God was being read.

She watched as Ruth walked to the back of the classroom. She reached up and pushed down on the shoulders of all three with the hand that wasn't holding the Bible and then swiped their hats off, all without missing a word that she was reading. "My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not."

They were so shocked that this woman half their size was treating them like they were still using a primer and sitting on the first row, they didn't know what to say or do. Mercy felt a sense of pride and a sliver of amusement.

Then worry crept in. Those boys had thrashed Mr. Daly good, a strong motivator in his choosing to leave. Their former teacher had been nearly 6 foot. What would they do to her little mother who wasn't even 5 and a half feet?


	3. Chapter 3

Ruth looked out over the rows of faces. She smiled, but no one smiled back. The first order of business was seeing who all was here. She laid her Bible down on the desk to pick up the attendance list and called out their names one by one and attempted to commit them to memory.

"Teresa Hernandez?"

The kids all pointed at a little girl with sleek black hair carefully plaited into braids and olive skin.

"Teresa only speaks Spanish," Mercy almost whispered. She became extremely soft spoken in a public setting, and she had to strain to hear.

She looked back at the girl. She surely knew her own name. She looked a little coldly at her. She wondered how good of a teacher the short-lived Mr. Daly had been.

"Hugh Kelley."

"Hugh speaks Gaelic and Spanish," Mercy informed her as a ginger-haired boy raised his hand.

"But not English?"

She shook her head.

How could she teach students who didn't even know English, but she wasn't about to turn them away. She'd just have to be more creative with their lessons. At least Teresa had someone she could talk to.

"Okay, children, start your lessons, and I'll call you up as I need you."

Some of the younger children had trouble getting started since they couldn't read, and Teresa and Hugh had nowhere to start as they didn't know English. She got the older girls to pair up with them, since she couldn't work with them all at once.

The classroom got quiet as they all began to study their lessons. This might turn out to be easier than she thought. She decided to use the attendance list to call them up, and Margaret Brannon was first.

"Margaret, I need you to come recite your lesson."

"I don't want to," she mumbled.

"You might not, but you have to."

"I don't want to," she yelled. Then the girl flinched, realizing her mistake. She obviously expected a blow to come either with a ruler or a pointer.

Ruth couldn't say it wasn't tempting, and it wasn't that she was altogether against physical discipline. She believed there were times it was warranted when it wasn't born of a parent or teacher's anger or frustration. She also believed there were better ways for a child to learn right from wrong. Instilling fear wasn't as effective as a child learning why it wasn't the right thing to do.

"We'll talk about this at noon," she said, keeping her tone so calm and even. The girl's eyes grew twice their normal size, fearing it all the more for not knowing what the punishment would be. "Now, it appears you got to your second lesson," she said, pointing to the open book. "I need to hear you read it."

The girl stumbled through the lesson from the McGuffey's Reader, and she wondered if she was truly ready for the 2nd reader. It seemed forever before she got through the first paragraph and started the next.

"I hop," Margaret said.

"Hope," Ruth corrected.

"I hope you have said your..."

"Prayers."

"Prayers and..." the girl began stumped once again.

Ruth finished the sentence for her. "Thanked your Father in heaven for all His goodness. Why don't you study Lesson 1 again for tomorrow, and we'll see how you do with that."

The girl all but ran for the safety of her seat. It made sense now why reciting the lesson had evoked such emotion her, but she still couldn't excuse her disrespect.

With the 2 non-English speakers, she simply tried to teach them some English, using the pictures in their books. Hugh seemed to be trying, but Teresa mostly stared at her, making her wonder if she might be a little simple.

Later that morning, she had to turn her back to the class to write the topic of the theme she had decided to give the older children: Why Did the Roman Empire Fall?

She hadn't even gotten to Roman yet when a tiny white piece of paper that came from the paper she had just handed out flew and hit just above the i in Did.

Annoying but maybe if she just ignored it, it would stop. That theory quickly proved untrue and a larger wad landed in her pulled-back hair. She picked it out, shuddering slightly to find it wet.

She turned to find the source of the wads and wasn't terribly surprised to spot Walter in the process of flicking another. This one aimed at a girl on the third row. And his two companions were in the process of joining him if their laughter were any indication.

"I expect the oldest children in here to set an example for the younger, and if ya'll can't do that and if you all ain't interested in learning, maybe you boys should ask yourselves what you're even doing here."

"Our parents pay your salary, so it shouldn't matter to you," Burr said, eliciting a few chuckles from the back rows.

"That may have been true for Mr. Daly, but your parents don't pay my salary."

"Plus, it gets us out of chores," Lemuel said with a wide, lazy grin as he leaned back in his seat.

Walter's new spitball became lodged in the hair of the younger boy in front of him.

She felt the heat on her face at barely controlled anger. "Lemuel, if you're going to slouch in my classroom, you can spend the noon hour with me, where we can work on the proper way to sit. And Burr, seeing as how you and your parents are getting a nearly free education, you can meet me after school to clean my chalkboard. And you, Walter, you can sit up here on the front row until you learn to act your age." She took his paper and pen from him and laid it on the desk.

Walter turned a bright red up to the tips of his ears as he skulked up to the front and took his seat by the youngest boys, slouching worse than Lemuel.

She was happy when noon came and all the children ran out except for Mercy and Margaret. She'd almost forgotten about Margaret. She hadn't even thought of a punishment beyond missing recess. She came up with one on the spur of the moment. "You will quickly eat your lunch because you're going to write sentences, a 100 of them."

She wrote out the first line for her, "I will not raise my voice in anger."

"My hand hurts," the child complained after filling the board completely with 20 of them. "And I don't have room for no more."

"I'm very sorry about that. Erase and write again. You know it's good for your penmanship and good for your character. Next time maybe you'll remember to use a soft voice when communicating, and for the record, what you should have said this morning was yes, ma'am." She did feel sorry for her, but the last thing she could do was back down or the children would take it as she didn't mean what she said.

She ought to have forced Mercy outside to play and eat with the other children, but she didn't have the energy for it at the moment.

Halfway into lunch, shouts suddenly arose from outside, and she ran to the window to see what was happening. The students were surrounding two boys, who were really pummeling on each other.

"Oh, good heavens!" Ruth exclaimed.

"There's always a fight at the nooning," Mercy said matter-of-factly.

"The same children?"

She shook her head.

So the kids took turns wailing on one another. What had she gotten herself into? Was she in charge of a school or a prison?

She wasted no more time and ran outside to put a stop to it. She grabbed each boy by the back of his shirt. Fortunately, they were small enough that it wasn't hard to physically separate them.

"If we have a problem with each other, we work it out by talking. You ain't a going to solve problems this way. Understood?"

One of the boys swiped at his bloody nose but continued to look sullenly at her and the other child. The boy mumbled an unconvincing, "Yes ma'am." She forced them to apologize to each other and brought them in to sit out the rest of the hour.

The afternoon was fairly uneventful compared to the morning, but she believed she was more joyous than the children when 2:00 came.

"Look at all that chalk dust," Burr complained, which had mostly been created from all of Margaret's sentences. "I got chores waiting for me at home. And a theme paper to write."

"I'm sure you can find time to fit it into your schedule, or I can find the time to fit talking to your parents into mine."

If looks could kill, but she met his stare until he buckled and made his way to the board.

"You'll need a bucket of water. I have the rag at my desk, and you'll also need to take the erasers outside and clap them." To Mercy, she said, "You can run on home. Tell your father I'll be along directly."

She stood up and picked up her book and slate, but she hesitated.

"Go on. I won't be long."

Mercy walked out, looking back only once. She clearly wanted to say something, but Burr's presence kept her from doing it.

Ruth waited until Burr had finished about 15 minutes later and then she did some last little cleaning before being the last to leave.

She got the fright of her life to find Walter, Lemuel, and Burr waiting for her outside.

"Ya'll gave me a start," she told them. "Was there something you boys needed?"

"You humiliate us, we'll humiliate you," Walter warned.

They all took a step closer to her in an act of intimidation. She took a deep breath and didn't move an inch. She was not afraid of children. Even children who were much bigger than her. She wondered though as they walked away if perhaps she should be.


	4. Chapter 4

"How'd your day go?" Kid asked as Ruth stepped through the door.

"Don't ask."

"That well, huh?"

"Let's just say it's lucky we already have children."

He stifled his laughter because she didn't appear to be joking. And Ruth loved children, or more to the point, she loved people. That alone spoke volumes about the kind of day she'd had.

Her eyes widened upon seeing the table. She'd been thinking she had to fix supper, but she found a meal already laid out. The fish and potatoes may have been a little burned and on the side of simple as there didn't appear to be any seasoning on the baked items, but she felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. "I love you."

"Is that the hunger talking or you?"

"Me and my stomach say it," she said, looking away from the table and kissing him.

Gideon ran into the room and threw his arms around her legs. "I miss you, Mama!"

"I missed you too!" she exclaimed back, scooping him up, which wouldn't be happening much longer. Her youngest was getting heavy.

He proceeded to tell her a long story, some of which she understood and some not as much, but she listened attentively anyway.

Isaiah came in and walked past her as if she'd been home all day. He made a face at the food. He didn't care for fish. And he probably wasn't going to eat burned potatoes. He was a fussy child, but it was a fussiness she knew, unlike the misbehaviors in the classroom.

Mercy looked relieved to see her. Had she been worried about her? She hadn't stayed over that late.

When the family was all seated at the table, she prayed, "Lord, we thank You for Your provision. Give us all strength, patience, and wisdom to handle life's trials."

The corners of Kid's lips turned upward at the use of 'us', knowing the last part was more a prayer for her than them.

"Guide us through the Holy Ghost, and Father, help us press on. In Your precious Son's name, we pray. Amen."

Between bites, they shared parts of their day. They laughed together over the funny parts and smiled over the nice parts. Kid groused at Isaiah to eat, and Isaiah sat at the table tight-lipped until Kid gave up and sent him to bed.

In front of the children, she'd focused on the positives of the day, but alone with Kid in their bed a little later, she let the frustrations pour out. "They have fights everyday at recess, they disrupt the lessons, they're disrespectful, they don't seem to want to learn, and that's just to start with."

"Well, think back to when you were their age; were you the model student?"

"Not exactly. Let's just say if I had a penny for every time a teacher asked me to stop talking, I'd have enough money to fund our ministry into the next century and then some."

He chuckled, picturing his chatty wife as a child. "I don't doubt it a bit. My point is I think adults sometimes expect too much out of children when they're only just learning how to behave."

"I know you're probably right about that, but that don't make things any easier," she said with a sigh.

"You can still give it up. No one's making you do this."

"No, I have to find a way to reach them. I want to find a way to reach them," she said, the determination she was so capable of returning at the thought of the classroom being teacherless again.

"That's the Sister Ruth I know and love." He kissed her cheek tenderly. "That's what will make you a great teacher. You care."

"That don't make a bit of difference if they won't listen to a word I say. I can care all the way to the madhouse." This time she was saying it with humor rather than defeat. "And I expect that's where I'll be by the end of term."

"If it makes you feel better, I hang on your every word. You can teach me any day of the week. Just test me."

She laughed. "You make that sound so wrong."

"Good. I meant it to," he told her playfully. He pulled her on top of him, making her gasp in surprise, but he cut it short with a kiss. "This is the kind of homework I like."

She was smiling as she slid her hands up and down his muscular arms. "You're going to ruin school for me if you keep talking like that, making school words sound not so innocent."

"Can I help it if I find the new schoolmarm irresistible?" he asked, as he caused her hair to tumble from its prim updo.

"I bet you were kept after school a lot as a boy."

"I would've enjoyed it too if I'd had a teacher like you," he said as his hands stole along her curves.

"You're awful," she complained, but as she ran her fingers down his chest, she forgot all about her terrible day and wondered if any woman was as blessed in her marriage as she was.


	5. Chapter 5

Wrapped in Kid's arms, Ruth didn't want to get out of them, and she didn't get as much sleep as she could have. Maybe this was why schoolmarms were not normally allowed to be married, she thought with a glimmer of amusement.

"See you after school, honey," she said, getting up anyway though the sun was barely up.

"Have a good day," he mumbled into his pillow.

"I'll certainly try," she said with a chuckle.

And she did try. She began the day off right by reading more verses to the kids. This time it was about love. And it was but a few minutes later while she attempted to take attendance that two of the youngest children started smacking each other for no apparent reason other than the thrill of the fight.

She fought the urge to sigh as she put the paper down and went to intervene. Forget going to the madhouse. She was already here.

She placed her hands on the tops of their heads, which caused them to stop swinging and look up at her, but she wasn't looking at them. Her eyes were screwed shut as she prayed aloud. "Lord God, help these children love each other as You love them. Help them be Your peacemakers and apologize to one another because we know all things are possible through You even when it seems impossible. And, Lord, certainly this is the impossible. In Your name, we pray. Amen."

The children were kind of stunned never having had someone try to pray the meanness out of them before. They quickly apologized to each other and found their seats again.

And she struggled through the morning. There was more talking than before. She had to remind them frequently they needed to be quiet so the other students could concentrate. Teresa continued to glare at her with tight lips as she tried to teach the girl English.

Needing to use the outhouse midmorning as much for sanity's sake as anything else, she put the oldest girl in charge of taking the names of anyone who misbehaved and went. But she didn't need to be told the names written down when she got back as she could've guessed that Walter, Lemuel, and Burr would be a given.

Their misdeeds were also plain. They had spilled pots of black ink all over the papers, so that there was no chance of marking them. Paper didn't come cheap either, and the papers were ruined beyond use. It'd stained the wood of the desk as well unless she could get it all up in time.

What made her especially steamed was that it was an act of revenge and spite. And it affected not only her, but the children who had invested hours probably into writing the papers. Now they'd have to redo it.

She went to sit down in her chair to calm herself before she spoke to them. A small embroidery needle had been lodged into the knothole of the chair so that the pointy side was sticking up. She jumped up so fast and so high from the chair, she sent the class into a fit of giggles.

She supposed she should have been grateful it wasn't a rusty nail instead, but that didn't keep it from hurting. And it didn't keep her from getting angry. "All three of you get out of my school!" she hollered at the snickering boys. "Ya'll ain't got no business being here! Go on! Get!" She charged toward them, clapping at them like they were a pack of dogs she was shooing away.

The class was staring at her after it was all over, and there was a loud quiet. She immediately felt guilty. Yelling wasn't normally the way she handled things. She usually had a better reign on her temper than that; though anger was something she sometimes struggled with.

By the time school was out, she was determined to speak to the parents of the boys and invite them back to school though it was tempting to suspend them for the rest of the term after their behavior today.

"I'll be a little late getting home again, Mercy. I want to go visit with Burr, Lemuel, and Walter and invite them back to school.

"Why, Momma? Why would you invite them mean boys back?"

"Sweetheart, sometimes you have to take the high road. And I think they have a lot they need to learn yet and none of it necessarily from books."

Mercy frowned and hurried off in the direction of home.

"Love is patient," Ruth reminded herself, quoting a part of the passage she'd read just that morning. "Oh, Lord God in Heaven, You're going to have to make me patient. I don't know if I can be patient on my own."

Walter's house was closest, so she went there first, walking through the sandhills where most of the 400 or so residents of this town lived.

His father answered the door. He smelled of the sea. He was obviously involved in trade as the majority of the small community was.

"Hi, I'm Sister Ruth, Walter's teacher. I want to talk to you about him and then talk to Walter himself." When that didn't receive a response one way or another, she plunged ahead. "He was acting up in school, you see. But punishing him by keeping him away from school don't seem like a great punishment to me on reflection. I was wondering if you had any ideas. You know him best."

"I don't care what he does at school. As long as he does his chores around the house, I have no quarrel with the boy."

How could a parent not care about the success of their child. For one's education or lack thereof could close so many doors. "But don't you want him to do good?"

"The way I see it his time's about done there anyway. You're the teacher. Figure it out."

"It is about done, and it'd be a shame for him not to finish the 8th grade."

"Tell him that tomorrow, but he's on my time now. Although if you want my opinion, you ought to beat him, which I know is going to be difficult for you being smaller and female. That's why they never should've hired a lady teacher." The sea-weathered door shut in her face.

She suddenly understood Walter a whole lot better. If his father cared so little about the activities of his son, perhaps all the bad behavior was really a cry for attention. She wondered what the home lives were like for all her students.


	6. Chapter 6

"Momma working late again?" Kid asked, seeing Mercy come in alone.

"Yeah."

He could tell something was concerning her. "What's wrong, baby?"

"They put a needle in her chair."

"They did what? Who's they?" He didn't appear as amused as her classmates had been.

Happy to see she finally had a parent that saw the seriousness of the situation, Mercy continued, "These awful boys in my school. And they beat up the last teacher. They hurt him real bad. What if they do the same to Momma?"

His eyes flashed dangerously, and Mercy took a step back though she knew the anger wasn't directed at her. His mood lingered like a dark cloud over his head until Ruth got home.

Sister Ruth was even more sorrowful for her decision to send them home upon visiting the other boys. Burr's family looked to be going hungry as painfully thin as the large family was. Lemuel seemed to come from a decent family as far as she could tell after one visit, but she felt bad because he wasn't the leader type. He was only doing what his friends were doing.

Her visits hadn't mended any bridges. She'd gotten to speak to Lemuel and Burr to personally invite them back in the morning and assure them she wanted them there. They'd been nastily polite in response. She couldn't have faulted their manners, but there was no genuineness to the apologies their parents made them give, and there was a hardness in their eyes that said they were cooking up more pranks or worse.

"Those boys been giving you trouble?" Kid said by way of greeting.

"Maybe a little, but I was too hard on them."

"Mercy said they put a needle in your chair."

"They hurt my pride more than my derrière," she said with a chuckle.

But Kid wasn't laughing. "You can't let this go on. Things like this tend to get worse before they get better."

"I know it. I'm trying."

"You know Gideon's been asking about seeing the school. He misses you and Mercy during the day. We'll walk with you tomorrow. Let him see it. "

"That sounds right nice as long as you behave yourself," she said, knowing her husband too well.

But the fact he didn't answer left what he intended to do hanging in the air.

sss

All the Coles walked to the school the next day. Ruth studied her family. Kid was moving resolutely with a grim look plastered on his face, Mercy moved solemnly with some nervousness thrown in, Isaiah was stomping to let the whole world know he wasn't happy about having to go on a walk, and Gideon was hopping like a rabbit one minute and flapping like a bird another and when he wasn't doing those things he was spinning in circles to make himself dizzy. She laughed at her youngest child. He was chattering a million miles a minute. It was hard tell what was moving faster his body or his mouth. Her mother would have said that it was her prayers being answered for Ruth to have a child exactly like herself when she was younger, so she could know what she had gone through raising her.

They got there only a little before it was time for school to start. Ruth rang the bell, calling them all in, and Kid didn't go away. "I'd like to say a word to your class."

She'd figured as much. She decided she might as well let him get it out of his system. So while she let their sons flip though the books at her desk, he addressed the class.

"I'm Kid Cole," he said to the students. It was not because they didn't know who he was because it was all over town, but he did it as a mere formality and to get their attention.

He towered over all the children even the three oldest boys. The black clothes, the weather-worn face, the low tones he spoke with, and the gun all served to add to his intimidating demeanor. He was really a teddy-bear of a man, but that wasn't the first impression a person got. All they saw was the dark and brooding man, and he was using it today to its full effect.

"I don't like what I've been hearing is going on in this classroom. If I get wind of anyone giving my wife any trouble, they'll be answering to me." He spoke to the class as a whole, but his eyes were focused in on Walter, Lemuel, and Burr.

She could have imagined it, but she thought she saw a couple Adam's apples bob up and down in the back.

That was all he said, but it was all he had to say. It had created a deafening silence and caused them all to sit in their seats a little straighter.

She followed him and their boys to the door to give him a parting peck. "Thank you, honey, but I really didn't need you coming to scare my kids."

He looked out at the calmer classroom. "It didn't hurt, and it worked."

It did work for 1 hour 43 minutes and 52 seconds. She didn't normally keep the time so religiously, but she'd turned into quite the clock watcher since taking this job.

There was a relative harmony among the students that were Irish and Hispanic as they shared the Catholic religion. That's why the Irish in the area had learned Spanish because of that connection. And the ones in this classroom were united against a common enemy, her. At least inside. Outside became a whole other story where hitting anybody was fair game, but they worked to ensure she had a miserable morning with their refusal to stop talking despite her many warnings.

She looked at the seat of her chair when she sat down this time. Unfortunately, she didn't think to check the back of the seat and had so failed to notice the glue pasted there.

She felt the pulling on the back of her blouse when she went to lean forward. However, she refused to give them the satisfaction of watching her try to get out of her predicament even if that meant sitting in her chair all morning.

Maybe that was why she noticed the way Teresa zeroed in on the conversations going on around her, which was strange for a person who didn't know any English. She thought of a plan to test her theory. She'd noticed the girl lived a little further out from them, taking the same path of a morning.

So right after the students had been dismissed for the midday meal, she said, "Mercy, if you want to eat lunch with your father and brothers during the nooning, don't go the way we usually come. You'll have to go another way. I was warned by the locals it's prone to flooding this time of year, and we had that stead downpour of rain for a couple hours.

She smiled as she watched Teresa go to the left instead of her usual right. That girl understood English perfectly well. She wondered why she'd tried to hide it. Fortunately, her daughter hadn't chosen to eat at home. "Mercy, come see if you can free me."

Mercy pulled on the fabric, but it wasn't budging from the wood. Whatever type of adhesive they'd used had worked entirely too well. "Get the sewing scissors out of my bag."

If only they'd use their brains for good, she thought. The boys' newly turned in papers had been terrible, and she'd had a feeling they could've done better if they'd been trying. That feeling coming from some of the comments Walter had made in his paper. His writing was flawless even if his facts were not.

She silently read the first lines of his paper again. 'Rome fell because no self-respecting man should have worn a skirt, and they had a rotten and complicated way of counting. Even Nero knew their contemptible culture was not worth saving as he fiddled while it burned and danced in its ashes. Then he banned anyone from ever speaking Latin again, which is why to this day it is a dead language.'

She shook her head in aggravation though some parts of his lengthy but nonsensical paper had made her chuckle. She wondered if she should even make him write it again. He was likely to turn in a paper twice as bad.

Mercy returned with the scissors.

"Cut me out, sweetheart," she instructed.

She hesitated to cut her mother's shirt, and scissors were pointing up in the air as she thought about it.

"Go on. There ain't no help for it, and I got some leftover fabric I can cover the place up with at home."

So Mercy cut, pulling up as much of it as she could after she'd freed some of it to minimize the tear, but Ruth had to go for her shawl that was hanging up when it was all said and done. There'd been a chill this morning because of the rain, but now it was quite warm, too warm for the shawl, but she had to wear it thanks to the gaping hole in the back, exposing her corset for the world to see.

She went to the window to stretch her legs and look out to see what mischief the children were up to now, but her eyes drifted to the path Teresa had taken. "See if you can't make friends with Teresa," she said to Mercy, who now had a sandwich in one hand and her book in another.

Ruth turned back to look at her. Her eyes had widened, not because she had anything against Teresa, but because the thought of making the first move in a friendship scared her to death. "But, Momma, she don't speak no English."

"I have a sneaking suspicion she understands us more than we thought. Give it a try. See what happens."

Mercy had nothing to say to that, but she wasn't looking thrilled at the prospect. Though Ruth couldn't understand the hardship of making friends as she had always considered everyone she met a friend, she did sympathize, but she hoped the experience would make her daughter the stronger for it.

The children were even more terrible that afternoon as if they felt they needed to make up for the lost time created by Kid's warning. Now, they were not only chattering when they weren't supposed to, but they were getting up out of their seats.

She tried ignoring it. That had worked fairly well with the glue this morning. She could tell how disappointed the three amigos were to find her up out of her seat after the nooning, not looking angry, but she had come to the end of her patience once more.

"Sit yourselves down," she said to the class, an unnatural growl in her voice. She sounded so demonic saying it, she almost scared herself. A good many of them sat.

All really but the three boys, who were proving to be the bane of her existence. They monkeyed around the whole rest of the school day and argued with her whenever she said something to them, demonstrating how little they respected her, and they encouraged others to join in with them.

Another failed day rolled around at 4:00. She kept the worst students after school, falling back on the sentence writing again, making them write a hundred sentences on their slate. But she didn't feel it had truly done any good and certainly wasn't delusional enough to think it had helped them see the error of their ways.

Ruth spotted Burr on her walk home. He was breaking off the thin stems of the wild celery plant. Not that they tasted any different from grown celery really, but the fact that he was out foraging this time of day proved that they were having a hard time of it and were as hungry as they had looked.

It was tempting to walk on by, but love was kind. She joined him wordlessly.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked as if he expected a trick.

"Because that's what Jesus would do."

He rolled his eyes. Apparently his opinion of God wasn't very high. That hurt her more than his dislike of her. She had to find a way to bring the Lord into the classroom.


	7. Chapter 7

It was just another day as a schoolmarm, which meant it wasn't just another day at all.

It almost didn't surprise her to open her desk drawer that morning and find a striped snake, sitting coiled on top of the quills calm as you please. She slammed it shut immediately, wondering whether it was worth opening again. It could be venomous for all she knew.

It wasn't hard to guess the culprits. Most of the class was looking at her in confusion, wondering why she'd so suddenly shut the drawer back, but Walter, Lemuel, and Burr were making no effort to hide their mirth.

They might not like her very much or any teacher, but surely they wouldn't plan something deadly. She remembered a poem Kid had taught her: Red Touch Yellow Kills a Fellow. Red Touch Black Venom Lack.

She slowly opened it back up and looked. The red was touching black. It was just a milk snake or a king snake, not a coral snake, but that didn't make her want to pull it out. If she'd been Eve, Satan never would've had a chance. She would've ran in the opposite direction. He would've had to use a cat or a pony for his nefarious purposes.

"I suppose ya'll know without my saying so that I want to see you all during the nooning."

Their only reply was sullen looks.

She envied all their mothers. At home and away from this present company. Being a teacher was harder than she had expected, but she reminded herself that love did not envy. It was not focused on self but on others. Just because it was at times hard to love these kids, didn't mean she shouldn't.

Yet, she did envy any woman who wasn't in this classroom. No one could say she wasn't being a good disciplinarian. She was meting out punishments when they did wrong to keep order in the classroom. It was just doing little good.

At the nooning, she gave them scissors to trim weeds growing up around the building as punishment, which probably wasn't the wisest decision, and she probably should have supervised them, but the nooning was a time to breathe a little and not play warden. She would hear if they started to carry on. She made sure to crack the windows just in case.

She bit into her sandwich and quickly spit it back out. She started chugging down her canteen of water. When the taste in her mouth wasn't quite as bad, she unassembled her sandwich to investigate. She found dirt, a nice, thick layer of it between her slices of leftover roast, an ingredient she definitely hadn't added when she'd made the sandwich this morning. She'd never tasted dirt before, but it was exactly how one expected dirt would taste. She blamed herself. She really should have known better than to leave her food unattended after all the pranks they'd pulled.

She abruptly jumped up and ran to Mercy's sandwich, pulling it from her hands just to check. Nothing. They hadn't tampered with hers, fortunately.

She called them in from outside.

"You can't prove it was us," Walter said with a smirk.

She'd never felt like wringing anybody's neck that wasn't a chicken, but then again neither was she ever stuck with three somebodies all day, whose sole mission in life was to get on her last nerve.

She picked up the ruler, tempted to whack them across their knuckles though she'd promised herself she wouldn't resort to physical discipline while she was angry, and she was very angry.

"Go on. I dare you," Walter taunted.

His cocky attitude didn't make it any easier to put the ruler down. They needed someone to turn them across their knee even if they were practically adults. "All three of you go and face a different wall."

It was a method that might have worked well with younger children, but they looked at her like she was crazy. They were about to protest she could tell. She straightened her spine, standing to her full 5 foot 4 inches. "I don't want no trouble, but ya'll are fishing for it. There's a bleak and terrible future ahead for you, boys, if ya'll don't change your ways. You all might find this hard to believe, but it's your souls I'm concerned for more than anything."

As if they could see their bleak futures in the black depths of her pupil, they actually listened. She figured though it was more likely they suddenly realized she could sic her husband on them if she got angry enough.

She left them standing the rest of the afternoon. She didn't forget them, but with the ringleaders more or less out of the way, it was an easier to manage classroom. She actually kept everyone working on their lessons. Most of the time anyway.

She sent all the kids home, not because there wasn't some who deserved to stay after, but simply because she didn't have the energy for it. Only Mercy remained.

"Did you get a chance to talk with Teresa?" she asked her daughter.

"No, I forgot," she replied. Though it was clear from her guilty expression and sudden interest in the floor that she hadn't forgotten.

"You don't know how important it is you try. She needs a friend as much as you do."

"But it's so hard. It's easy for you. You're not shy. It's not easy for me."

"I know it's not, honey. We all have things we're good at and things we need to work on. Just because it doesn't come easy doesn't mean we shouldn't try. Will you try for me tomorrow?"

She nodded, but Ruth could see she might have to give her a helpful nudge. "Go on home, honey, if you want. I'll be right behind you today."

By now, she was used to her mother not accompanying her home and was already gone before she'd finished tidying up the classroom for tomorrow.

"Oh, Lord, give me strength," she said when she saw three familiar shadows fall across the floor.

Walter smiled. "You're going to regret picking on us."

"Me picking on you? Not a day goes by ya'll aren't playing some little joke on me that gets less and less amusing. I'm thinking you boys might need to direct some of that energy into moving the outhouse."

He laughed humorlessly. "We're not your lackeys." He was so near her now she could smell his unwashed body mixed with the onions he'd had for lunch. He cracked his knuckles. "It's time we taught you a lesson."

"He's going to see everything you do."

"Who? Your husband? Hardly. He's too busy taking care of your kids, which should be your job."

"No. I was talking about God."

Walter pushed her into her chair; his face was ugly with anger. "I don't care about God. What's He going to do? Strike me with lightening?"

Lemuel laughed at his joke, but he was the only one.

"Leave her alone," Burr said so quietly the other boys almost didn't hear him.

"What?" Walter asked.

"You heard me. I said leave her be."

"You're defending her after all she'd done to humiliate us?"

"I think she got the message. And I've got more important things to do right now than terrorize some lady teacher."

Walter looked down at her, where she was sitting sideways in her chair from being haphazardly pushed into it. "Let's hope so or next time you'll be screaming your daughter's name."

Lemuel laughed at his play on words, and left with Walter.

She looked up in gratefulness to Burr. He'd returned her charity.

"We're even," he said gruffly as if kindness could be bought and sold. She took it to mean he wouldn't be helping her the next time they took it into their heads to attack her. He followed after his friends.

She breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn't hurt her, but things with them were certainly escalating. Had she been a fool to think she could handle them?

She needed advice from another teacher. She'd heard that a Mrs. Moore had been the first teacher the school had had, and her house was on the way.

She knocked on the door, wishing she'd brought a little something to pardon the unannounced visit, but she couldn't wait.

Mrs. Moore greeted her with a smile. On entering her cabin she wished even more she'd brought food along as it appeared she and her husband were struggling a little bit. Though the surroundings of the one-room house were meager, the bed was done up extra fancy with fine coverings and dressy pillows. She'd noticed that about houses in California. Their beds were always dressed up fancy even when nothing else was. They must've placed a high priority on sleep.

"My name's Ruth Cole, but please, just call me Sister Ruth. I heard you used to teach."

"I did teach before I got a husband," she said, recalling some faraway memory with fondness before coming back to reality. "You're the new teacher."

She wondered if Mrs. Moore had ever had an out-of-control classroom. It was likely if she'd taught for any length of time. "Temporary teacher. The job sounded easier than it is. That's why I'm here; how did you do it?"

Ruth had handled some rough customers throughout her ministry, usually with Kid's help, but sometimes alone. They paled in comparison to her current situation as there was no getting away from them.

"Well, my mother's advice before I started was never smile until Christmas."

Ruth laughed. "Too late on that account."

Mrs. Moore laughed too. "I didn't say I agreed. I think what she meant though was to show the children your authority before you try to gain their friendship. Honestly though, I think reward goes a long way. Think about it. What motivates you or me to work? Money, of course. In the children's case, it could be a bit of candy or a privilege the other children don't receive such as longer recess."

"But is it good to make kids do the right thing with a promise of reward?"

"Yes, God does warn of punishment, but I think there has to be an equal balance of reward and consequences. Doesn't God promise us rewards in heaven?"

"He does, indeed, along with the greatest prize, the promise of an eternal life spent with Him. You've given me something to work with. Thank you. I'll certainly try it."

The problem, she thought on the way home, was what would motivate the boys into behaving? She'd have to think long and hard about that one. And pray nothing went wrong in the meantime.


	8. Chapter 8

A kid named Reagan showed up late to class. The child had been knee-deep in mud from the stains on his legs that his rolled-up pants revealed, and he was getting the mud all over the clean floor. "I was hunting for worms to go fishing with, but, well, the worms won."

"I can see that." They were expecting Sister Ruth to be angry she could tell, but she started to laugh. She couldn't help herself, he sounded so disappointed, and the class began to laugh with her.

The collective laughter sounded musical. If not smiling was some kind of hidden rule for successful teaching, she couldn't imagine where laughter would get her. She believed, however, that laughter was good for the soul. The Bible said a merry heart did as much good as medicine. There was a time for sternness and discipline, and there was time a time for fun and joyfulness.

"Go out and clean yourself off at the pump, and in the future, save your fishing for after school."

"Yes'm."

While she'd been talking, three more tardy students had shown up. To be perfectly honest, it wouldn't have hurt her feelings if they'd stayed home. Ruth hadn't told Kid about the encounter with the boys as she feared he would overreact. She wondered if that was a mistake. The boys were late on purpose to goad her and show her how little they respected her or learning in general.

She should have let the tardiness slide after yesterday. Most female teachers would have, but she couldn't, not if she ever hoped to have control of this classroom or these children. "Ya'll are late and disrupting students who are trying to learn their lessons. You all can spend your nooning hour with me, catching up on missed work and helping around the classroom."

"That's not fair. You just let Reagan off the hook," Walter pointed out with his typical smug expression.

"He's a child of 7, who's not normally late I might add. You boys are making it a habit. I'm not going to change my mind."

They sat down sullenly and were as disruptive as ever through the morning and only a handful of children didn't get sucked into misbehaving with them. She wondered if it would be breaking any rules for teachers if she hogtied them.

Focusing on a student she might actually be able to help, she said, "Mercy, I need you to go get me a bucket of water and the dipper. It's hot today; we won't stop lessons, but we'll give everyone a chance to get water. Take Teresa with you, and she can carry the dipper, so you don't lose it."

Mercy motioned for the younger girl to follow. She wasn't dumb; the day was very warm, but the water was an excuse to get her alone with Teresa. Outside, she gave it a try though she didn't expect it to meet with success. "Hello," she told her shyly.

A nod of acknowledgement but no more.

"It's so pretty outside." It was only a handful of words, but it was painful for her to say every one of them. She was used to any friends she had making the first move. This was awkward and out of her comfort zone going first. Teresa merely blinked and looked away. She had known she was no good at making friends. Now if only her mother knew it.

"I wish the well was full of lemonade," Mercy said it out loud but to herself, having given up on conversation with Teresa.

"Me too."

It was accented and soft but definitely English. "You speak English." She couldn't help stating the obvious even though her mother had suspected it.

"Yes," she said that one word full of so much regret. She had surely seen the folly of revealing it to the teacher's daughter in hindsight.

"Why have you been hiding it?"

Mercy almost thought she wasn't going to answer, she took so long in responding, but she admitted at the last, "The last teacher made fun of me. Of my English."

"Mr. Daly?" Mercy asked, frowning as she tried to recall that incident.

"The teacher before I moved here. When I had to recite, he would laugh and repeat my words for the class to hear, so I thought it better if I pretend not to speak it at all. I hate school, and I hate teachers."

"My mother wouldn't make fun of you."

Teresa looked at her with incredulity written all over her face.

"I mean it. She wouldn't. I've never heard her make fun of anybody even when they maybe deserved it."

"The other children would."

That she couldn't argue.

"Promise you will not tell your ma that I speak English."

She agreed as she didn't have to; she already knew. She didn't even have to tell her mother she'd gotten her to talk. They'd taken too long at the pump without it being obvious. Armed with the knowledge now, she wondered what her mother could or would do with a child who refused to speak or do her work because that would mean admitting she understood the language.

sss

Ruth had a feeling the nooning had been more of a punishment for her than the boys as she put up with their grumbling and sloppy work, and she didn't get her usual one hour break from them.

By the afternoon, it had become blazing hot, which made it tough to concentrate. Sister Ruth wasn't even doing any mental exercise, and she having a rough time. She could only imagine how hard a time the children doing lessons were having.

"Let's have class outside," Ruth declared. At least outside they could maybe catch a cool breeze.

Her words were met with cheers and a few skeptical looks as if they doubted she'd really let them have class outdoors.

One of the youngest girls grinned up at her. "I like you, Mrs. Cole. I'm going to keep you in my wardrobe forever and ever."

She couldn't decide if that was sweet or creepy. "Thank you, honey, but I'm not sure I'd like living in a wardrobe."

A man she recognized as one of the members of the school board appeared over the hill during their unorthodox lesson time. Curious, she got up off the ground and asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I had a parent complain to me that you aren't keeping the class under control. She's been told Burr, Walter, and Lemuel are the worst. They been giving you a hard time?"

"A little, but it takes time to get used to one another."

"We don't tolerate no disrespect to teachers. Nor do we allow misbehaviors. For all they've done, they need at least 10 lashes." He'd brought along a cane, the purpose was not for walking but inflicting punishment. He called them up one at a time and had them bend over in front of everyone while he struck them.

Sister Ruth cringed at the sound of the birch lashing into their backside, imagining the fiery pain created with each lick. She tried to communicate her sympathy in her expression, but she failed. They blamed her rather than the man that was giving the actual caning. She could see it in the cold looks of hatred they gave her. Their gazes had been menacing before, but now they looked downright murderous.


	9. Chapter 9

Their derrieres were still sore from the whippings they had received the precious day. The fact they hung at the edge of the seat barely even sitting and shifting constantly proved it. It caused plenty of snickering from their classmates, adding to their shame and anger.

"That's enough," Sister Ruth said. "I'm sure you've all received physical punishments of some kind or other, and if you haven't you just ain't been in school long enough. Now if it's alright with ya'll, I'd like to get started on our lessons." Her tone told them it wasn't a suggestion, and after witnessing the beatings yesterday, they were quick to comply.

She had to hand it to the man from yesterday. She didn't hear a peep out of them today. No sign of even the tiniest pranks. The only complaint she had was they were obeying out of fear and not love or respect, and that was why she couldn't agree with the punishment even now in the face of their obedience.

The boys had deserved their canings, no doubt, but had they deserved to have it witnessed in front of even the youngest pupil? She was reminded of the love passage again. "Love does not dishonor."

At the nooning, she asked Teresa to stay. The girl tried to pretend she didn't understand Sister Ruth's request, but Ruth took the girl gently by the arm and held onto it until all the children had gone outside.

"Teresa, honey, I seen you talking to Mercy through the window this morning, and I wish you'd let me hear your beautiful voice."

Her lips remained pursed, but Ruth saw the resolve waver in her eyes however briefly.

"I can't make you talk, but I hope you'll let me be your teacher." When the stubbornness remained firmly etched, she laughed, "Oh, go on with you. Go play."

Teresa went, seemingly not caring it proved she'd understood. That had to be a step in the right direction, Ruth thought.

It was a rare day indeed when she was able to leave school on time with Mercy, but today was that day.

She was so distracted talking to her daughter about the plans she had for their end-of-term program, she didn't notice the boys right away until they were nearly on top of them. They looked more menacing than ever. She remembered Burr's promise that he wouldn't protect her the next time.

"Run, Mercy. Run!" she screamed. Though Mercy hesitated to leave her behind, she must have saw the practicality of it at the last and took off running, and the boys let her run, making Ruth send a prayer of thankfulness to the good Lord, but it wasn't her daughter they had a problem with after all. It was her.

They surrounded her like a pack of hungry wolves. if she could just keep them talking, she'd fare better than trying to fight back she knew. There'd be no chance of getting away from them. They'd be able to run faster than her. "Why are ya'll here? I thought we had a good day today."

"We didn't have a good day yesterday, and we all know why that is. You. And now you're going to wish you'd never even stepped foot into the classroom."

She looked at them sadly. "I worry about your souls. You don't know how much I worry and pray for them."

Walter laughed humorlessly. "It ain't our souls smarting right now."

"I'm willing to wager it's your pride hurting you more than anything, and I can understand that, but you had to know a caning was a possibility after the way ya'll have been acting."

She thought she saw a flicker of shame pass across Burr's face, but if it did, he hid it quickly.

"I don't know nothing except you're going to be in worse pain than we are when we're through here."

"Is that possible? It seems to me it's your heart hurting. It's tough, ain't it, when you have a father that don't care? When he hits you for all the things you've done wrong but never sees when you do right?"

"You shut your filthy mouth!" Spittle flew from Walter's mouth in his anger, and he had to wipe it off from his chin with his sleeve. "You don't know nothing about my father."

"I know about your heavenly Father. One who sees and loves you just as you are. Today. One who cares not only about the wrong you do but about the right. He wants a relationship with you."

His answer was to shove her to the ground hard. She scraped her palms against the rocks on the ground catching herself from being completely prostrate. Walter kicked her in the ribs. The boning in her corset served to absorb some of the shock but only some of it, causing her to give a small cry of pain.

Kid came running into the clearing like she knew he would, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Who knew what else might have happened? She might not have been able to get up in the morning.

Kid caught them all though they tried to run. He kicked their sore backsides none too gently, and they gave cries of pain louder than the one she'd given.

Ruth begged him not to do more to them, and he released them with a warning. "This little thrashing I gave you will look like kid stuff if I ever catch you near my wife again.

The boys scattered like marbles, and Kid helped her off the ground.

"I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along when you did, but praise the Lord you did. He always comes through, don't He?" Silence met her question. He turned to walk back to the house after ensuring she was physically okay. "You're angry."

"Yes, I'm angry," he said, not looking at her as they walked along.

"With me?" she asked though she already knew, and the fact he didn't say no confirmed it.

"You're not invincible. However much you think you are."

"I don't think I'm invincible," she protested. "I just trust-"

"God to protect you, I know. But sometimes he expects a person to use a little common sense. Why didn't you tell me they were still giving you trouble? I would have set them right."

"Because I knew you'd overreact. It started off as little things."

"Overreact? They were about to cause you serious physical harm. Is that the first time they've tried anything like that?"

Now it was her turn to be silent.

"Ruth!" he admonished. "I'm about ready to march you in front of that school board and tell them you're not going to do it anymore."

"Oh, please, Kid. I'm making progress with them. I can feel it."

He stopped in his tracks and turned her to face him. "I know how much you want to save them from their bad life choices, but here's the thing, you can't help everybody. Not even the Lord Almighty gets through to everybody, and He's perfect in love and in everything else. Is a servant greater than his master?"

She flushed. Was it pride or was it God calling her to help them? She had to pray and think on that one. Maybe she ought to give them up for lost causes. "Well, they'll have to miss some time from school for sure. Maybe it'll give some time for their pride and their you-know-what to heal. That'll give me the opportunity to think on the situation too and decide what the Lord's will is."


	10. Chapter 10

Sister Ruth prayed long and hard before going to bed. Her family had fallen asleep hours ago, but she still sat by the window, looking out at the night sky while she prayed.

"Momma, how can you pray for so long?" Mercy asked.

Ruth noticed her there for the first time and smiled at the sleepy, puzzled girl, looking adorable in her bare feet and white nightgown. When she got deep in prayer, it was just her and God, the rest of the world faded, but had it been so long? As she went to stand, her knees agreed that it had been.

"Oh, it takes practice, I reckon, but you know me. I've got a tongue that can't stop wagging. I do plenty of talking to God. Problem is I'm not always great at listening for an answer." She picked up her Bible so she could listen for that answer on what to do about the boys. "You should be in bed, sweetheart, morning comes quicker than you'd expect."

When Mercy was back in bed, she read 13th chapter of Corinthians, the chapter that had been on her mind so frequently as of late. One part in particular stuck out to her: "knowledge, it shall vanish away". Love, however, never would. It was the one thing that endured. Kids would forget their aspirates from their diphthongs, but they wouldn't forget the love that was shown to them inside the classroom and elsewhere.

"My job is just to love them, isn't it, Lord?" she asked, but she already knew she'd gotten the answer she had sought.

sss

"I know what needs to be done. Assuming they've finally learned their lesson, I have to invite them back once again," she said told Kid a few days later. She had given it a little bit of time to make sure there'd be no promptings or messages from the Spirit to the contrary, but if anything, she felt even more strongly about it.

Kid shook his head at her. "I don't understand you sometimes. Here's your chance to have them out of your hair, and you want to ask them back. They don't deserve to be asked back. I just don't understand it."

"To be perfectly honest, I don't always understand it either, but how grim would the world be if people only ever received what they deserved? But fortunately for them and us, grace in Christ does triumph over justice or we'd all be in a world of hurt."

He sighed but said, "Lead the way."

She made her rounds to talk to them with him in tow, protecting her, as he had on her walk to and from school since the last incident.

Walter and his father didn't even come to the door though she'd known them to be home by the noise she heard in the house. Lemuel was unkind in the things he had said to her, calling her colorful names and saying he'd only return to school when the everlasting fire became less everlasting, angering his parents and Kid, but she only heard Walter's words parroted in all that he said and that made her more sad than angry. She hoped his parents would eventually get though to him. Of the three troublemakers, only Burr seemed contrite.

"I know we went too far," Burr said with his head down, "and I wouldn't blame you if you never let us come back to school. Especially since you already gave us another chance."

"Never's a long time, and I'm a great believer in second chances and third chances and, well, however many chances it takes before a person comes to their senses. The Lord's always given me more chances than I can count."

"I really want another chance."

"You're not just saying that cause I'm here, are you, son?" Kid asked with a sharp look that threatened to cut through any phony promises. He looked back at the boys' hopeful parents. "Or because your parents are standing here."

"No, sir. I want to do better."

The answer satisfied Kid, and he gave his nod of approval.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," she said with a broad smile that communicated her forgiveness and her genuine happiness about his return.

sss

"I don't want to go to school. They call me names. They make fun of me. And that's just the little ones."

The silly complaint earned a chuckle from Kid as Ruth hoped it would, but it didn't make him feel any better about one of the boys being back in school. "You're the one that invited one of the instigators back. I've got little sympathy for you."

"I think it may turn out that he's downright pleasant separated from his friends."

"If that's what you have to tell yourself to get out of bed," he said with a grin, rising first and then holding a hand out to help her out.

sss

The day was mostly without incident, there were issues here and there but nothing that couldn't be squashed and wasn't a normal part of a school day. She had instituted Mrs. Moore's advice about rewarding the good behavior and that seemed to make most of the kids strive harder in an effort to earn more time outside or to earn the baked treats she brought into the classroom. She really believed things were turning around. And Burr was as good as he'd promised he'd be.

The students were leaving for the day, and she asked, "Burr, can I see you for a minute?"

He turned back and walked to her desk, wearing a frown. He waited until the kids were all gone. "What'd I do now?" he asked, his words coming out short.

She smiled. "Nothing. I just wanted to talk."

He let out some air, his temper going with it. "Sorry. It's just my parents are depending on me to go hunting, and it ain't easy bagging critters you can't see, and the sun won't be out much longer."

"Believe me, I understand. Used to help with the hunting myself as a child. You know my husband hasn't been hunting in a coon's age, and he's been complaining that he doesn't know enough about the hunting in these parts to bag something decent. You'd be doing us a huge favor if you took him along."

"And why would I want to do you folks a favor?"

"Because I think despite your bravado, you've got a good heart."

"You know, I might not be doing well in school, but I'm not dim-witted," he said, hinting at the fact that he knew it was really an attempt at helping him get more for his family without making it look like it was charity. "And I think you've got a good heart too. Tell him he can meet me at my house, but I won't wait long."

It took a little time to gather up the essays she needed to grade tonight and get the room back in order, but she went fast, so Kid could catch up with the boy. He always came back with a kill if there was a kill to be had.

Her husband was waiting for her outside with the children and agreed to the plan like she knew he would. His heart wasn't lacking in size, however much he tried to argue that hers was bigger.

She got chill bumps that rose up from the feeling that came from being watched, and it didn't take long to spot Walter. He stood on the hill behind the school staring at them. He made no effort to hide himself but was watching them with an eerie stillness.

"He's been standing there since I arrived with the boys. I really don't like that kid. He needs to be locked up," Kid groused.

"He ain't doing nothing illegal." Though sometimes she wished it was. She had been gawked at from being the wife of Kid Cole and possessing a reputation of her own more times than she cared to.

"He's thinking about doing something illegal, I bet," he said, staring right back at the boy.

"I'm sure he's not," she said, but the words were more for their children, who walked with them, than because she believed them. Walter was a loose cannon, and there was no telling when he'd go off.


	11. Chapter 11

Sister Ruth listened as Margaret recited her lesson. She'd had to go back to an earlier reader, but the child was reading beautifully now, smoothly and with expression.

"All your joys and griefs He knows,  
Sees each smile;  
When to Him you tell your woes,  
Know the Lord will hear."

"I knew you could do it!" Ruth exclaimed joyfully.

The girl grinned. She was pleased with herself but even more pleased that someone believed in her ability. She suddenly threw her arms around Ruth, taking her by surprise but a very pleasant surprise. Ruth smiled and hugged her back. It was hard to believe this was the same child who had screamed at her on the first day. This was when it paid to be a teacher.

A glance at the clock told her it was time for the nooning, so she dismissed the class to play and eat.

It was such a lovely day and with no students in trouble, at least not yet, there was nothing holding her back from joining them. Mercy's head was bent over her latest acquisition, _The Odyssey_.

"Come on, honey. Take your book outside if you have to and feel the sunshine."

Mercy didn't look as if she enjoyed having to stop reading for even a moment, but she got up and came outside.

Ruth worried as her daughter found a tree trunk to use as a backrest and settled back into her story. She'd rather Mercy be up playing with the other kids, but maybe that was her projecting what she would have done as a child onto her offspring.

Teresa went down and sat by her, drawn to Mercy's quiet nature it would appear. The Lord knew what he was doing when He made Mercy, and it was more than possible she would have chosen a book over playing a schoolyard game even had she spent her whole life in a city. Her job as a parent was to raise her children in the Lord, not change their personality. She appreciated and loved Kid for his quiet nature. She needed to appreciate it more in her child. The world needed the social butterfly and the shrinking violet both.

Last evening's cornbread suddenly tasted like sand in her mouth as she got a look at Walter staring down at the midday break. He wasn't on school property, but he was watching them all with an unreadable expression. She moved in his direction to let him know he'd been spotted, and she was watching him in return, but he made no sign of leaving anytime soon. She ate the rest of her lunch, not tasting and not enjoying the outdoors as she'd hoped.

She looked out the window once lessons resumed inside and was relieved to find he was gone.

She called Burr aside to talk to him, whispering so the others wouldn't hear. "You know Walter real good. What kind of game is your friend playing?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I had a half a mind to ask him, but he's real mad right now. Probably figures me for a traitor. I thought it best to pretend he wasn't there."

"Well, if you do see him and talk to him, tell him I don't scare easy when I know I'm where the Lord wants me, doing what he would have me do."

"I will, but I think he's figured that out for himself."

Walter wasn't watching them as she walked home with Kid and the children, and she had hope that he'd finally moved on to other things, but they ran across him at the fork in the road along with Lemuel.

Walter had pushed Teresa and was standing over her, screaming, "Go back to Mexico!"

Teresa was struggling not to cry, but she was losing.

"You're making friends with the enemy. You know that, you snaggle-toothed, muck snipe? I saw you eat lunch with the schoolmarm's daughter. You're a traitor. They're not one of us; they hate the pope. But you don't understand a word I'm saying, do you? You're too stupid to learn their language. That's why we lost our lands to the Americans!"

"That's enough!" Ruth hollered out now that she was within hearing range. "What's wrong with you? Out here picking on a little girl. Not only should you be ashamed but what a waste of the life God gave you!"

His look of hatred turned from Teresa to her. "I'm the only one not too cowardly to speak the truth."

"Was bothering a lady too hard that you had to find weaker pray?" Kid asked, pushing him away and helping Teresa up. "I ought to tie your ankles together and drag you through town tied to the back of my horse."

"Why don't you leave the fighting to the adults, Walter, and in case you ain't noticed, that's over too. This soil belongs to the United States now. It don't mean you have to change the way you and your family and friends worship. In fact, the Constitution guarantees you don't, which you'd know if you'd paid attention to your history lessons."

He let out a derisive snort.

"And for the record, I don't hate the pope. I think he's going to be a pretty good one if the papers are to believed. He visits prisoners and helps orphans. I may not believe he can't be wrong about matters of faith and doctrine, but I believe that he's serving Christ through his actions, and a servant of Christ makes a pretty good leader. But you're not serving Him. You've admitted as much more than once. You're serving Satan. Is that what you want?"

He ran, and she did her best to soothe a frightened Teresa, promising her they would walk her home.

So now she knew why Walter hated her so much. He didn't think a Protestant had the right to come in and tell him what to do. People were always dividing against each other: Protestants against Catholics, free against slave, country against country, male against female, teacher against student. There was only one place there was no division and that was in the Spirit. She prayed for more unity.


	12. Chapter 12

Teresa's parents looked worried to see the teacher and her family escorting her home though the child was unharmed except for a little dirt on the back of her dress.

She wasn't sure how well Teresa's parents spoke English if they did at all, so she made sure to use lots of hand gestures as she related the incident.

Teresa didn't reach out to hug her, but she said, "Gracias, thank you."

The first words of English from her were a thank you indeed to Ruth. She knew what the words, however brief, had cost her to say to a teacher of all people.

"No need to thank us, honey. We just want you to be safe."

Teresa's parents thanked them too. Though their unease over the situation remained.

The next morning, Sister Ruth looked out on the classroom with new eyes. These children were the future. They would be the ones to accept the change in power or not. How did one go about creating unity in a community that was more apt to focus on their differences because there was no doubt more people of various backgrounds would pour in now that the territory was open to American settlers. Through love. And how did one show love? Through deed and not word only.

"Children, we ain't doing lessons today."

The students took no time in rejoicing at the news. There was cheering and applauding and whistling to show their appreciation.

"Quiet down, ya'll. We're still going to work." Her words were met with expected groans by the more vocal students, and she let it get quiet again before she continued. "I'm hoping this will teach you all the most important lesson you'll ever learn: that God put us on this earth to serve Him and the way we do that is to show God's love by serving others."

She'd heard Mrs. Moore's husband had broken a leg, which was bound to be putting a strain on their finances, and she'd seen for herself on walking by the outside that work wasn't getting done as it should. And who better for a group of school kids to help than a former teacher?

"What's this?" Mrs. Moore asked with smiling eyes as she answered the door and saw the gaggle of students and teacher.

"We're here to help you with your garden, which sounds strange with Christmas only weeks away, but that's the beauty of this part of the country," Ruth said with open arms.

"You don't have to do that."

"We don't have to, but we want to. You'll actually be doing us a favor as I want to impress upon the children the importance of loving our neighbors."

"Well, as long as it's part of a lesson, I say be my guest."

Though most if not all the children had a garden at home, Ruth warned, "If you're not sure if something needs to be pulled, ask."

They stared at her wide-eyed as she rolled up her sleeves to help. She imagined they thought she was just going to sit back and watch them do all the work. She laughed. They really didn't know her after all these weeks.

They worked well into the morning. Ruth caught movement out of the corner of her eye as she bent over. Looking at the source, she couldn't say she was all that surprised. She might have known Walter would show his face. She continued to watch him as they worked, but he kept his distance, and she made sure everyone stayed together.

"Lord above, that's one stubborn boy," Ruth said to Mrs. Moore, who came out to help when she wasn't inside working or waiting on her husband.

"Should I get Mr. Moore's rifle or ride into town and get some men to take care of him?" Mrs. Moore volunteered.

"No, I'll take care of him." She went to the well and filled the dipper the class had been sharing at water breaks and went up the hill.

"Take it," she said, firmly but softly.

He looked at the dipperful of cool water like it was a snake.

"The Cole family's partial to bullets not poison when taking men and boys out," she said, her eyes sparkling with humor. "You're bound to be hot and thirsty by now."

He eyed it again, but he didn't move to take it.

"Just drink it, son. I've got more work to do, and the children are going to be thirsty their own selves in a minute."

He took it and gulped it down greedily.

"Thanks," she said after he handed her the dipper back. "Listen, we don't want no trouble."

"I don't aim to cause any."

She smiled at him, wondering if it was the first time she had done so. "Good. Glad to hear it."

As she walked back down the hill, she wondered if he meant his words.

Mrs. Moore came up beside her as she put the dipper back. "I can't believe you just marched up there and gave him water. You've got some amazing courage."

"I've handled meaner, but that's not why I went up there. I did it because that's what Jesus would have me do."

"Doesn't he make you angry? Walter, of course, not Jesus."

"He does, and it caused me to make some mistakes early on. He already had reason not to like me in his mind being that I'm not part of the culture. A person can be a Christian in name only but still get mighty riled up in denominational wars because they consider their parents faith their heritage. Then I made him lose his pride in front of the class. He's got a lot of anger built up inside him from troubles at home, and I'm afraid I didn't do too much to help it."

"Well, you're more patient than I could have been."

"You've no idea the number of times I've read the thirteenth chapter of Colossians since starting this job. It's been fun and educational being a schoolmarm, but I think I'm ready to go back to evangelizing in saloons and brothels. And I think the school board is ready for me to go. I go places they don't approve of in my ministry, and I'm married, which are two strikes against me."

She laughed. "Oh my, it doesn't speak very well to our school if you'd prefer men and women who are that rough over our children, does it?"

She laughed with her. "No, they've been great lately, and I'll miss some of the funny things they say. It's just not my life's work."

"I wonder if they considered a married teacher this term if they'll consider one next term."

"No harm in asking."

"I think I'm ready for school tomorrow, Mrs. Cole," Herbert said, her personal portrait artist, as he came over for some water.

She smiled, remembering his rudely drawn picture of her on the slate. He could be a handful but his cuteness saved his hide, and he'd warmed up to her since that first day. "Yep, nothing like working under the sun to make a body appreciate book learning."

They were done an hour earlier than expected.

Mrs. Moore addressed them before they left. "Thank you all so much, children. You have a smart teacher, you know. Any teacher can stand in front of a classroom and teach from books. It's a rarer teacher who is genuinely concerned with the welfare and character of every one of their students. And I see a fine group of young men and women before me."

Ruth flushed at the praise. In some ways, she felt like she'd failed them, Walter and Lemuel especially, but it was nice to hear she'd been doing some of it right.

Young people sometimes got the idea that love was supposed to be easy, that it was supposed to make them feel good, and matches were often made with selfish thoughts of attaining wealth and social standing, but the Good Book said it best: "Love is not self-seeking." Love, true love, was about turning your attention to others and focusing on their needs even when things got tough. Even when that person didn't want to be loved.

She looked towards the hill and saw Walter was gone, but she prayed he'd learned something from his watching. She prayed he'd felt loved when she brought him water. She didn't know what else to do for him.


	13. Chapter 13

"How does it look?" Ruth asked with an appraising glance around the room.

"Very good from where I'm standing," Kid answered.

She twisted around and half smiled and half frowned at his teasing for he stood at the moment right behind her, viewing her rather than the room and supporting the chair she'd been standing as she'd hung the final bit of greenery. "Help me down, you fool."

He grinned as he held out his hand for her to take a hold of on the precarious return to the floor that a woman's skirts made. "No, seriously, honey. It all looks very fine. The children and parents will be awfully impressed."

"I hope so. They've all been working so hard."

"You sound like you're starting to like teaching," he said, picking up the wood they'd brought. "Such a different tune from when you started."

The evening had dropped well into the forties, and Kid was lighting the seldom-used wood stove to get the room warmed up for the program.

"The children are different."

He stood up and dusted his hands on his pants after shutting the grate. "They just needed a firm and loving hand. I knew you could do it from the beginning."

She looked out the window. The families would begin arriving at any minute. Their own children as well. Mrs. Moore had insisted on watching all three of them, claiming that she needed to get to used to having young ones underfoot again now that the school board had given her the job for next term.

She went over to her desk, making sure once again that everything was neat and tidy.

Kid could see she needed a distraction. He looked at the inkwell on the desk. "Did you ever have your braid dipped into the inkwell? It's the mark of a lovesick boy, you know."

"Kid Cole, if you even think of putting any part of my anatomy in the ink, you're going to sorely regret it," she said with a laugh.

He went behind the desk and put his arms around her from behind. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I can think of better ways to express my love." He planted a soft kiss on the back of her neck.

"Behave yourself before I'm caught by a student," she reprimanded in her best schoolmarm voice, but she put her hand over his interlocked ones, so he didn't pull away from the backwards hug until they saw the first team of horses pull up.

Mrs. Moore and the children arrived first, but it didn't take long for the small room to begin filling up with families.

She couldn't help smiling at seeing Mercy and Teresa together. The girls were now as cozy together as if they'd been friends all their lives, whispering secrets and sharing giggles.

"I'll miss you when we move on the spring," Mercy said.

"It would not matter if you were staying. We are moving to Mexico."

Ruth hadn't meant to eavesdrop on the girls' conversation, but the information caught her by surprise. "Really? I hope it ain't because of Walter."

"No, my parents have been thinking about this for a long time."

"Well, you'll be missed, but I know God has great plans for you."

Teresa nodded her agreement. "I want to be a teacher. Like you."

Ruth got a warm feeling to know she'd inspired a child to work in the classroom whether she ever actually ended up there or not. Children changed their dreams so frequently. "I think you'd make a really good teacher, Teresa."

Ruth had a front row seat, so she could whisper encouragement and manage any problems that might arise. Kid and the boys sat with her as well.

The program started off with a traditional Irish carol. Ruth loved the lyrics and struggled not to join in with them, relegating herself to foot tapping instead.

"Good people all, this Christmas time,  
Consider well and bear in mind  
What our good God for us has done  
In sending His beloved Son  
With Mary holy we should pray,  
To God with love this Christmas Day  
In Bethlehem upon that morn,  
There was a blessed Messiah born."

All the children had chosen a recitation for the program, showing off their skills in articulation, inflection, pausing, and emphasizing.

Her only true language learner, Hugh, had chosen the ambitious "Speak Gently" by David Bates, and she couldn't be more proud. She listened to his Irish lilt as he read.

"Speak gently; it is better far  
To rule by love than fear:  
Speak gently; let no harsh word mar  
The good we might do here."

Walter slipped in so quietly that if she hadn't been looking in that direction at the time, she might have missed it altogether. He took a seat in the back and removed his hat, perking Ruth's interest as that had been a daily source of contention between them with her insisting he do it and he insisting he not.

"Speak gently to the little child;  
Its love be sure to gain;  
Teach it in accents soft and mild;  
It may not long remain."

Kid looked back to see what she was so interested in and didn't know whether to be concerned at the appearance of the boy or not.

"Speak gently to the aged one;  
Grieve not the care-worn heart;  
The sands of life are nearly run;  
Let such in peace depart."

He started to get up to find out what he was doing there, but Ruth placed a hand on his knee to keep him there and softly shook her head, but it didn't keep him from looking back and watching.

"Speak gently, kindly, to the poor;  
Let no harsh tone be heard;  
They have enough they must endure,  
Without an unkind word."

This time she nudged for him to watch the performance, and he did, but he remained stiff as a board. She couldn't blame him. She was secretly a little ill at ease herself.

"Speak gently to the erring; know  
They must have toiled in vain;  
Perhaps unkindness made them so;  
Oh, win them back again."

Hugh took a deep breath as he came to the final stanza. He was at once pleased with himself and full of nervous energy.

"Speak gently; 'tis a little thing  
Dropped in the heart's deep well;  
The good, the joy, which it may bring,  
Eternity shall tell."

She applauded extra hard for him as did his parents.

Teresa had chosen a short poem, but the fact that she was up there at all reading was something to be praised.

Ruth might have been prejudiced, but she thought her daughter read the most talentedly of all and with the most expression, which was very good for a shy girl. Although she could freely admit to herself that her daughter's singing lacked, so maybe it wasn't just her mother's lenses.

The program ended with "Silent Night", which all the children had known though some had known it only in Spanish before they'd started practicing, and she had thought it would be wonderful if they sang it both ways.

"Silent night, holy night,  
Son of God, love's pure light;  
Radiant beams from thy holy face  
With the dawn of redeeming grace,  
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth,  
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.

Noche de paz, noche de amor,  
Todo duerme en derredor;  
sobre el santo niño Jesús  
Una estrella esparce su luz,  
Brilla sobre el Rey  
Brilla sobre el Rey."

Ruth made a beeline to see Walter when the program was over. Kid following behind her quick steps.

"I'm glad to see you decided to come," she told him. And behaved yourself, she wanted to add, but that went without saying.

"I've been giving everything you said a lot of thought, but mostly I've been watching you." As if she'd needed to be told that. "You are so at peace all the time; it's like nothing can shake your joy or your desire to help people. I want to live like that; I want to be that strong. And I want to come back to school."

"I won't be here, but Mrs. Moore will be. I'm sure she'll be happy to hear that. I know I am." Her heart still broke for Lemuel, but it was the Lord's job to call him to Himself. She'd done all she could with the boys. "You know where all that joy and peace and desire comes from, don't you?"

He put his head down to hide a half-grin. As if anyone could not know as much as she talked about it. "I know. Jesus. I'm going to start going to Mass again."

"Love never fails," Ruth said with a smile to Kid as they went to collect and congratulate Mercy for a job well done. She was grateful to God to see the fruition of that verse right before her eyes.

 _Real Universe_

After passing the school, it was a short walk to the house that he and Sister Ruth shared. Kid knew how happy it made her to tell people that he was a retired gunfighter, emphasis on the retired.

Would he have met Sister Ruth without his being a gunfighter? Would he have saved the lives that he did? (He tried not to think about the lives he had taken.) Would he have found salvation or rather salvation found him?

When he looked at the sum total of his life, when he looked at his present, he couldn't imagine his life any other way. The Lord had known just what direction he needed to get to this point in his life.

And just because one was not in a schoolroom didn't mean the opportunity for learning had stopped. His wife was currently hunched over her favorite book at the kitchen table.

He sat down across from her. "What you learning about?"

"Oh, just studying the book of Job." And she read, "Therefore have I uttered that I understood not; things too wonderful for me, which I knew not."

"Isn't it wonderful to think there's always Someone who knows more than we do, and there's always more we have to learn?"

Sister Ruth cocked her head a little sidewise having never thought about the verse quite that way. "I reckon it is. Study with me? I want to know what you think of the next verse."

Kid positively glowed as he reached out for her hand. He was pleased that she respected his opinion even as a recent convert. But after all, weren't some of the disciples Jesus had chosen uneducated and unlearned by the world's standards, and yet, they had accomplished mighty things in His name.

He and Ruth prayed together for wisdom and discernment from the Holy Ghost, making him feel undeniably learned.

The End


End file.
